Play Me A Little Tune
by angelic13demon
Summary: This is a story… a story a young boy foretold. There once was a man… In a word, he was bold. There once was a girl whose story – until that day – had yet to unfold. A spell (you could say) was unknowingly cast and quickly took hold. Clopin/OC
1. Character Info

_**Author Note: I am saying Clopin is only 19 and Esmeralda is 16.**_

**Character Information**

Name: Loretta

Age: 16

Looks: Tan skin, dark blue eyes, shoulder-length dark brown curly hair, dark cherry red lips, average build on the smaller side

Outfit: Light blue shirt with short puffy sleeves, brown corset/vest, brown calf length flowing skirt with a sheer light blue material overtop of it, darker blue belt with a black holder tied to her hip (for her flute, a small dagger, and a small coin pouch), two silver hoop earrings, a silver bang on her left wrist, silver necklace

Status: Gypsy – traveling musician

Name: Lucas

Age: 18

Looks: Tan skin, medium-shade blue eyes, shoulder-length dark brown hair tied back in a low ponytail

Outfit: Baggy light grey shirt, brown pants, brown boots, black mandolin holder tied to his back that hides a medium sized sword, thick red belt that hides coin pouch, small golden hoop earring in his left ear

Status: Gypsy – traveling musician/ play sword fighter

Name: Anton

Age: 19

Looks: Tan skin, dark blue eyes, chin-length straight dark brown hair pulled back in a short braid

Outfit: Slightly baggy pale tan shirt, black pants, black boots, brown sword holder tied to his hip, small golden hoop earring in his right ear

Status: Gypsy – traveling healer/ play sword fighter

Name: Felipe

Age: 6

Looks: Light tan skin, light blue eyes, chin-length dark brown hair

Outfit: Extremely baggy dark purple shirt, baggy dark gray pants, barefoot (most of the time), silver chain necklace with small medallion, medium silver hoop earring in his left ear, small holder with dagger hidden under his shirt

Status: Gypsy – traveling fortuneteller


	2. Chapter One

**_Chapter One_**

This is a story… a story a young boy foretold.

There once was a man… In a word, he was bold.

There once was a girl whose story – until that day – had yet to unfold.

A spell (you could say) was unknowingly cast and quickly took hold…

Now don't you dare begin to scold…

For this tale is nowhere near finished being told.

So let us begin because this is a story that no one can simply withhold.

The streets of Paris were filled to the brim with both villagers and gypsies alike on the morning in question. Children ran around, watching the performers in awe and wonder as their mothers trailed along behind them, gossiping among themselves. On this busy morning, no one noticed the figures lurking in the shadows of the allies and if they did, they dared not speak of it, choosing instead to believe that the figures were merely figments of their imaginations. It was such a lovely day, why ruin it with unnecessary paranoia?

The figures had other plans however. They wanted – no – they needed to be noticed, but they knew that now was not the time. For now, they would blend in, waiting and watching for their chance.

A young woman aged around sixteen, dressed in blue and brown, stepped from the shadows. Her traditional gypsy coins clinking and jingling from her hips and wrists as she spun on her heel to face the shadows once more and held her hand out towards it. A small slightly tan hand reached out and grabbed her offered one as a young boy, whose gap-toothed grin radiated both mirth and mischief, climbed out from the shadows and stood next to the woman. The woman whispered a few quiet words to the two remaining shadows before swiftly joining the crowd of jolly peasants with the boy trailing behind her.

"Loretta, soeur, where should we go first?" the young boy asked, looking up at his sister with clear blue eyes filled with excitement and anticipation.

"Well, Felipe," the woman began. "I suppose it would be best if we just follow the crowd. Surely they will lead us to what we seek."

"We shall see, ma soeur," the young Felipe replied cheerfully, adding a skip to his step as he urged Loretta to follow him. "I have a good feeling about this. A very good feeling indeed."

"You and your feeling," Loretta joked quietly, angling an amused smile down at her younger brother as he led her through the crowds.

"You and your flute," he countered, looking mischievously at her over his shoulder. "I can do it too, as you can clearly see."

The young woman laughed softly, ruffling Felipe's dark brown hair as she fell in step with him. "That you can little one. That you can."

After what felt like forever for young Felipe, the pair stumbled out of the rowdy crowd into what appeared to be the town's center with the great Notre Dame looking down on the citizens of Paris as if it was their guardian and protector.

A quiet gasp escaped the woman's lips as she looked up at the magnificent structure in both wonder and slight desperation. The monumental cathedral itself had an eerie beauty that shook Loretta to the very core, but that was not all. While the cathedral was breathtakingly beautiful, both gypsies could feel overwhelming waves of emotion radiating from it. Loneliness was the most prominent and striking of the emotions, but every now and then happiness would shine through like the sun on a cloudy day.

"Felipe…" Loretta began still staring up at the structure.

"Go ahead," the young boy in question said, shoving his sister's leg gently. "I'll be over there at the puppet master's stand. Just come get me when you're done."

"Alright. I'll be back soon, frère." She gave him a quick kiss on his forehead before rushing up the steps of the church that had captured her interest so quickly.

"She has her mission and I have mine," Felipe mumbled, approaching the empty puppeteer's stand as the square seemed to die down.

Suddenly a man jumped up from behind the stage, grinning at the young boy from behind his mask. "Come to see a show, mon petit?"

"No thank you, monsieur. I was just curious and decided to explore while I wait on ma soeur."

"Votre soeur? And where would this sister be, my curious child?" the man asked, taking off his purple hat before running his gloved hand through his black chin-length hair.

Felipe simply pointed towards the cathedral as his mouth formed a large mischievous smile.

"Ah," the puppeteer breathed, turning his gaze momentarily up to the magnificent structure, before turning to the boy and giving him a grin. "Went to go visit the Archbishop, hm? To confess some sins perhaps?"

The young boy's facial expression instantly dimmed and faded to that of a serious one, leaving only a small gleam of mischief in his blue eyes as a sign that his previous expression had been there at all. "You and I both know that that is not who she went to see nor is that the reason she went, Clopin Trouillefou."

The puppeteer's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and surprise as he stared at the young boy before him. How did this child know his name? All the townspeople of Paris minus the gypsies had only ever known him as 'Monsieur Marionnettiste'. No one but his people knew him by his real name.

"Don't bother asking how. The better question is always why," Felipe said, a large smile once again on his face.

"Even though you say that, mon étrange petit, I must ask: how is it that you know my name?" Clopin asked, trying to remain calm and casual as he leaned against his stand.

The boy's grin grew as he turned away from the puppeteer and began walking away with a few words in farewell. "I know quite a bit. The extent of which you have yet to see. Good day, Monsieur Clopin."

All Clopin could do was look on in silence as the young boy's figure was lost in the crowd. With a huff of astonishment, he pushed off from the stand and began setting up for his next show, but one thought refused to leave his mind: Who was that strange little boy?

A soft cry echoed throughout the dim room…

The candles flickered casting shadows in all directions…

The famous bells rang loud and clear for all to hear…

Loretta sighed, running her fingers along the stones of stairwell wall. How could so many emotions be bottled up in a single building? Joy. Sorrow. Remorse. Devotion. The list goes on. 'Now to find the main source,' the dark beauty thought as she reached the door at the top of the stair and pushed it open. "Hello, Quasimodo."

Sœur - Sister  
Frère - Brother  
Monsieur - Sir  
Mon petit - Little One  
Ma soeur - My Sister  
Votre sœur - Your sister  
Marionnettiste - Puppeteer  
Mon étrange petit - strange little one

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